Claire Stanfield enjoys his coffee outdoors
by Maydn
Summary: Full title "Claire Stanfield enjoys his coffee outdoors on a sunny day". Claire meets another assassin during coffee break. One-shot.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own _Baccano!_ or its characters.

**Beta:** Many thanks to xanthos for her really great help!

**Note:** No real spoilers but it won't make much sense if you haven't watched episode 15 of the anime yet...

_"MiniEdit" (detailed A/N at story end)_

* * *

**Claire Stanfield enjoys his coffee outdoors on a sunny day  
**

* * *

Claire Stanfield sat in a café at Boston Harbor, smiling, while sipping on the dark hot drink in his hand. Next to him sat John. Of course, John wasn't his real name, just an alias that he could wear and strip off whenever needed.

At this very moment, names didn't really matter.

The only thing that mattered now was that John was working as an assassin for the Lucianos, former allies of the Gandor famiglia who had recently made a very, _very_ stupid move. That was, at least, what John thought about it. Actually, he wasn't able to fully process many thoughts because right in front of him sat Claire Stanfield, smiling.

John wasn't exactly a good person but he had never been the type of killer with an unnatural thirst for blood, he did the job for money. He wasn't even extraordinarily cold-hearted. No, he would think of children as 'cute', stare at the blue sky and dream of a wonderful future, he would lend the old lady living next door a helping hand with her purchases, he would even donate blood. That was the kind of person he was, even if shooting people earned him his salary.

"Take care of it." Is what they had told him to do should someone come after the Lucianos.

After all, his bosses had known that the Gandors wouldn't silently accept the attempted sellout to the police.

It didn't matter that it had not even worked.

It didn't matter that they did not lose a single man, well, not even a single bottle of alcohol.

The outcome, in fact, had nothing to do with anything. It was simple, there was one thing that was absolutely forbidden in the Mafia world, one thing that you didn't do.

The Omerta was crucial -- the one action that would never be forgiven was betrayal. Committing that kind of 'crime' would lead to only one form of punishment: death.

That was the way things worked, and John was well aware of it.

Although the Mafia's own definition of law worked in a certain way, it didn't mean 'criminal', 'punishment' or 'punisher' had something to do with terms like good and bad. From a more objective point of view, they were all bad. And what would happen to the Lucianos was a matter of whose backup was stronger.

Whether _he_ was good enough. _If_ he was able to protect his bosses from the punishment, _if_ he was able to kill the punishers, then John could turn the cards for the Lucianos.

He had not, however, expected to meet an assassin so soon.

That assassin was a smiling red haired young man, probably just a few years younger than he was. A person without any visible scars, seemingly quite carefree but with frighteningly observant red eyes. He had introduced himself as Claire Stanfield. Unlike the nice and calm impression his looks imparted, that name was connected to a monster.

Not just a very deadly assassin, no, a real monster.

John's thoughts became chaotic, and he was thinking back to his father who had always warned him of getting too involved with his former classmate Giordano Luciano, son of Don Sebastiano and his successor to the position of family head.

His father had always said, "Just because you are Italian doesn't mean there is no other way to live your life in this country."

Why did he have to remember those words now?

Yes, he had known it was dangerous to associate with 'them', the Mafia. He had known and still, lowering his head for customers like his father always did had never been appealing to John. Instead, he'd been attracted to the dignified, honorable way the members in his famiglia acted towards each other. Towards him.

Clack.

Claire had put his cup of coffee back on the table.

John's eyes wandered subconsciously down and finally fixed on Claire's hand. He knew the man was the type of assassin who preferred 'handwork' over using a gun. He knew the other assassin preferred a slow, torturous, death for his victims – a huge mess of blood and entrails over a quick and clean bullet.

Obviously, his discomfort didn't go unnoticed. "My, my, are you by any chance afraid of my hands?" The smile never left Claire's face, even while he was thinking. "Hmm, that's kind of a problem. If it was about a weapon, I could just throw it away . . . but in this case . . . I guess it's not that easy."

John wondered if he should take those words as a suggestion that the killer in front of him had come unarmed. Was there a way to get out of this alive? Should he try to shoot Claire, right now? He might even be able to protect the Lucianos if he killed that assassin here, where he wouldn't expect it.

He definitely didn't want to die.

Heck, if he had to die he would prefer being killed by someone else. That much was clear.

His right hand grabbed the trigger of his Beretta M1915 a bit tighter. The weapon was in the bag on his lap, directed somewhere at the other assassin's stomach.

Claire seemed to have noticed - as if his soundless grabbing had made some kind of noise- or was it just coincidence? He spoke again, "So, John. I didn't come here to kill you. At least, not in the first place. I might end up doing it if you decide to act stupid."

* * *

Vino was in a good mood. He'd had a splendid idea and now, besides talking to the person he'd wanted to meet, he could enjoy a nice coffee break. What else was there to wish for?

But said person, a black haired young man currently calling himself 'John', didn't seem to enjoy his drink. In fact, he had not even touched it yet.

Vino's mind checked his internal list of friendly gestures to find something that might help to brighten up John's mood as well. Perhaps he should offer to pay the bill? But before he could say anything, the person in question finally talked, his voice sounding rough and making him seem older than he really was.

"What do you want? Didn't you come here to take care of the traitors?"

Vino's smile turned into hearty laughter. "Ah, that?" It was amazing time and time again how communication really could help to settle things, "Don't worry. I've already taken care of it."

There was a pause.

Vino was patient, he knew that his companion had to process the information before he could continue. But the expression in his face was strange. His dark eyes narrowed and the wrinkles growing on his forehead emphasized a small scar that had been unnoticed until now.

Was he shocked? Angry? Sad? A second later, Vino realized it.

"Oh. I'm sorry! I've made you unemployed!"

Silence.

* * *

John looked at the other person, irritated. What was with this guy? Was this some kind of mad prank? It wasn't funny at all.

"You know, recently I discovered something amazing."

_Eh?_

"I think, there are special bonds between special people. Do you know what I mean?"

_What ?!_

The happily smiling redhead didn't seem to notice that his speech was kind of weird. And unrelated. And weird.

"Ah, come on. Are you still mad? I know you didn't share that kind of bond with those Lucianos. The way they talked about you . . ."

John realized that he must have made a curious face. Hopefully, Claire might talk about the important things now, tell what exactly had happened.

Had he really already killed the bosses? Was Giordano dead? Actually, he didn't want to think about that possibility.

"Perhaps _you_ did feel a bit of affection towards them. I can understand that. Then let me tell you one thing. When I asked Giordano how he had planned to live on with that kind of horrible looking liver damage - that was when I learned your real name, Gianni."

Silence again.

Suddenly he wished this was the same weird, unrelated talking as before, unrelated to him. Something out of the blue, completely meaningless.

Yet, now there was the frightening thought of the circumstances under which Claire Stanfield would have seen Giordano's horrible looking liver.

Shit.

Those were not the kind of things John could easily _decide_ not to picture in his head. But he - _really_ - needed to focus on the situation at hand.

He was sitting here with Claire Stanfield, after all, and was still alive. So, whatever that completely mad person wanted from him, he would have to play along for the time being.

Taking a deep breath he finally answered and, unable to completely hide his emotions, he just spoke them out, "I see. That _is_ a shock."

"I knew you would think so! That is _no way_ to treat a trusting subordinate. I told them as well." Picking up his cup again, Claire continued, "Gianni, John - which do you prefer?"

"John."

"Ah, I understand. I also had a favorite name for a long time. Actually, that changed only recently. But you can still call me Claire." He smiled again, "After all, my new name is reserved for railroad travels."

John looked at him, still without any idea as to where this was leading.

"John, you should try the coffee, it's really delicious. If you don't drink it soon it will get cold, you know."

Deciding that - even if he was going to do it eventually - Claire wouldn't kill him right here, John pulled back the hand from his gun, fingers still a bit shaky, and grabbed the cup of coffee.

It was strange but a sip from that hot, bitter, liquid made his brain work coherently again. Then he eyed Claire, wondering why they were here in this awkward situation.

"Your last employer won't pay you anymore, John, but that's good. After all, you are supposed to be with your father."

* * *

Vino looked into a pair of unbelieving brown eyes. At least, now his fingers had finally stopped shaking. He should have told him about the coffee sooner, Vino concluded, it worked wonders after all.

Still it seemed that he would have to explain more, after all the world wasn't as obvious to other people as it was to him, he had already realized that much.

The strings of events that were connected with each other and the fates of people who would be important, of course ordinary people could not see them. This world revolved around him alone, not the others, and only the person at the center could look to the left and to the right at the same time and understand that they were interconnected through exact that center.

It was amazing.

Yet explaining things to others was very tiring but - even so - still necessary. After all, the man in front of him had a role to fulfill and Vino would make him do it.

"I found a special girl that I want to marry." Vino had decided that he would just start from the beginning. It would certainly make things easier for the man to understand.

"Because I think I love her. Well, that perhaps isn't as important to you as it is to me, I guess." He smiled and observed John's reaction. But he didn't say anything. Vino took this as a hint to continue talking.

"You see, I wanted to give her something really nice, a present. Well, and just when I had decided on what I wanted to get for her, I was ordered to do this job here. And that's of course no coincidence. It had to be in Boston, because I wanted to get her a wonderful, extraordinary, special robe. And, one of the best Italian dressmakers is living here."

He observed his companion's frown. Could it be he already understood?

Unlikely.

So Vino continued, "Actually, I already came here yesterday to talk to him about my request. It is important to me after all. But apparently his business is doing well at the moment and he has his hands full with work. He has also run short of help, especially since the only really capable person, his son, would rather work in a different branch of business."

Vino laughed. It was just too funny. Even though the things he wanted to happen, did of course happen, he himself could still be surprised sometimes how it turned out.

"Haha! Imagine my surprise when your former boss told me your name! Of course, you were that very son who I would bring back to help his father."

Observing John's unreadable facial expression, Vino finished his explanation. "After all, I want a fabulous dress and you need a new job."

* * *

John had taken one large gulp of coffee and emptied his cup completely.

Processing what he had just heard made his head ache a bit, but it didn't take long to make a decision.

Being sure he would never have acted that way towards any other "colleague" in his branch, yet acknowledging that this strangely happy person in front of him was indeed _the_ infamous Claire Stanfield, John was willing to take what seemed to be the easy way out of this alive, for both him and his father.

He nodded in acceptance.

Even if all of this turned out to be a joke, he still wouldn't leave his father alone with this insane person. The old man had not always been an ideal father, indeed he was more like a demon who had decided before his birth what his son would be doing in his future life, but that didn't mean John wanted him dead.

Working as a dressmaker again? It had not been the making of dresses that he had hated about the job. He could, no he would do it. Making a dress in exchange for not being slaughtered seemed a pretty good deal.

"Well, that's good. Then, I'll come to your father's shop tomorrow morning to discuss the details, after all I want this dress to be something _special_ for her. "

Vino rose from his seat.

He had decided that John should take care of the bill. After all, aside from the bad first impression, he had really helped the man . . .

* * *

**A/N:** I changed the type of John's pistol as suggested by anon reviewer /k/. Thank you for making me aware of the historical inaccuracy! (I admit my original choice for the weapon was solely based on giving Gianni/John an Italian product with caliber 9mm, without properly researching when exactly the M9 was developed... The 1915 does fulfill those "requirements" perfectly, so thanks again for suggesting it!) I really want to rewrite this short story, attempting to improve the build up of tension between the characters and make the opening a bit more interesting, like Lumi75's review suggested. And maybe I'll flesh out the "role" of the pistol more, so it doesn't look like a strange detail in an otherwise so harmless scenery. I just need to get in Baccano mood again. Of course, reviews, especially constructive criticism concerning the points I mentioned (or other things that are still boring or not understandable), are appreciated very much!


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